


How the Body Falls Apart

by MelchiorGabor



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: 1980s, Character Death, Gradual decline, HIV/AIDS, Hospitalization, Implied Relationships, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelchiorGabor/pseuds/MelchiorGabor
Summary: It has been a year since Whizzer’s untimely passing, and his tired lover is still enduring the ongoing pain in his chest. He chooses to enlist Mendel for help, whereupon the psychiatrist takes note of how Marvin describes his feelings.Something is very wrong.





	1. Descent

The death of Whizzer Brown took a toll on the many people who were once a part of his life. Marvin, for one, was sickened with grief and worry. He had always loved Whizzer in some way, even if they were feuding, but the one time he felt adoration for the taller man most prominently was the one time he’d lose it all. Standing hunched before Whizzer’s grave with an overbearing sense of grief really showed Marvin that life was unfair; he’d addressed the concept before, but never did he realize the actual extent in which that was true.

Of course, the crestfallen man had others by his side in times of grief. They gave Marvin all of their solace and all of their best wishes, yet Marvin was still utterly defeated. As time wore on, the rate in which he aged seemed to have doubled, and by the time he reached the ripe old age of forty-three, the wrinkles in his face indicating stress were very prominent. Wisps of gray streaked his brown, curly hair, and his eyes were framed by the darkest of circles. Without any hesitation, anybody would be able to pass by him on the street and whisper under their breath, “That poor man must be going through something.”

Marvin ended up visiting Whizzer’s grave around twice each month. Each visit seemed almost like a ritual; he’d kneel in front of the gray, square stone, gently run his fingers over the words carved into it, and mumble a small, “I’m sorry,” or, “I love you.” At one point, he buried his face in his hands, allowed the tears to fall, and whispered, “Till death do we two part.” That was the only phrase that firmly stuck with him, simply because it was true. Marvin and Whizzer did fight and split, often finding themselves hating the other man’s actions, but they always found each other again. It defined “inseparable” in a new way, and the only thing that finally split them apart was death.

The game ended once Whizzer died. All seemed silent in the world — Marvin’s world — and the man never did truly adjust to the quiet. It seemed loud, peculiarly. The quiet would shout at him that if he had been a bit more just, a bit more _kind_ , Whizzer would still lie beside him each night and murmur in his sleep. The quiet was his fault; he never would stop blaming himself for that.

Marvin sat slouched on Mendel’s couch one Sunday night. The psychiatrist sat on his right side, and Trina on the left. They were speaking peacefully, having miraculously overcame the familiar disputes they once always had. Meanwhile, Jason was soundly asleep upstairs.

“I loved him,” said the tired man hoarsely. Trina took his sleeved left arm with a gentle grip, softly caressing it in an attempt to comfort him. “I _love_ him.” This phrase was used by Marvin so often that he almost sounded like a broken record.

“Yes, we know,” said Mendel in return, his voice solemn and soft. He addressed the topic with sensitivity; he had witnessed Whizzer’s final breath, saw the light die from his eyes, and heard the last words the frail man spoke. If Mendel was truly sad about this, he couldn’t begin to imagine what Marvin was experiencing. “Marvin, before Whizzer passed last year, you were never this thin or cadaverous. Have you been eating?”

“My appetite is easily lost. It’s nothing, I assure you,” Marvin murmured, his face haggard. It was true; the businessman rarely had an appetite after his lover’s untimely passing. Lately, however, it had become even worse. Unusually, uncharacteristically worse. He allowed his eyes to shut, the brightness behind them having faded over the long, seemingly endless months. The poor man needed sleep, yet when he finally did decide to catch up on rest, he never found himself to be fully rested. Fatigue steeped and gradually grew stronger, becoming an ongoing setback in his newer, more dreary life. Opening his eyes once more, anybody would be able to see that the light had died even more.

“Right.” Mendel used the pen he twirled between his fingers to scrawl the information down on a used notepad. The information Marvin gave the psychiatrist wasn’t anything new, but this time was different. This time, Mendel was trying to pinpoint something specific, something that made his stomach drop just upon the thought of it.

On the other hand, Trina was completely unaware of anything peculiar or off-putting about Marvin’s behavior. As far as she knew, he had always been like this since Whizzer’s death, so she thought nothing of it. Her current husband chose not to tell her of his suspicions, just to remain safe.

Mendel looked up from the notepad and met Marvin’s eyes with his own, masking his internal concern with something more sympathetic. “Have you been outside lately?”

 _What an odd question_. “Not regularly. I’m able to work from home, so that’s the option I’ve been taking,” sighed Marvin, slowly moving a hand over to his left arm. He gently took Trina’s hand off of him, placing it down and looking back at Mendel. The psychiatrist wasn’t looking directly back into Marvin’s eyes, but rather at his face and hands. He noted that the man’s skin looked rather ashen, and seemed to have thinned over time as well.

Mendel uncrossed his legs and placed his notepad beside him on the couch. “Alright, Marvin,” he spoke softly, his voice barely audible. He finally met the other man’s somber gaze. “That’s it for today. If there’s anything else we need to discuss, I will call you on the telephone.”

Slowly, Marvin stood. “Understood. Goodnight, both of you,” he said slowly, traipsing to the front door. Opening it and walking out into the brisk, cold winds, he gently shut the door behind him and looked at the starlit sky. Only now did he realize that he was sweating, so he wiped his palms on his pants and sauntered over to the car.

The drive home was a living hell for Marvin. It wasn’t uncommon for stomach pains to come and go for him, but driving somehow made it worse. By the time he stumbled through the front door of his own home, he was clambering into the bathroom and dropping to his knees, emptying the few contents from his stomach into the toilet.

Meanwhile, Mendel took his notepad and looked over everything he had written. Not only did he write what Marvin had told him, but he also took note of the small things he also happened to notice. The perspiration beading near Marvin’s hairline, how hoarse his voice was, the way his arms were wrapped around his stomach. It all began to pile up, and Mendel’s face began to visibly fall.

Standing quickly, he swiftly moved to the telephone and flipped through the phone book beside it in a hurry. Sensing Mendel’s sudden rush, Trina stood and gingerly approached the man.

“Mendel, honey, is everything okay?” Trina asked worriedly.

It took a long moment for Mendel to even notice his wife standing beside him. He found the page he was frantically searching for and lifted the phone to his ear, punching in the digits of somebody’s phone number into his push-button Rhapsody telephone.

“Mendel? What are you doing?” Trina asked once more, concern even more prominent in her voice.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, staring blankly at the wall. When he finally spoke, his tone was grave and hushed.

“I’m calling Dr. Charlotte.”


	2. Whisked Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mendel approaches Marvin, whereupon the frail man snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just dropping in to say that comments and criticism are always welcome!

There was bitter silence in the Weisenbachfeld household as Mendel gently placed the phone back down in its respective place. His expression was one reflecting utter, raw grief, yet to Trina, the reason was unknown. That would change sometime soon, whether she liked it or not. 

“Trina, dear, please stay home tonight and get some rest. I’m going to be out for a while,” Mendel said gravely, slowly approaching the door and shrugging on a heavy coat from the coat rack. Trina wordlessly watched as her husband departed from the house, thinking it best not to object. If the psychiatrist had a reason to call Dr. Charlotte at such an hour, something was clearly unsound. 

The frigid, biting winds outside tousled the man’s curly hair as he approached his vehicle with haste. The moon provided him with enough light to spot the car and enter it once he made sure it was unlocked. Up until then, he appeared calm, aside from the perturbed emotion plastered on his aged face; that was, until he started up his car and began driving. The man drove with reckless abandon, praying that the person he was soon to visit was still awake. Something about the pure, unadulterated worry Mendel plunged head-first into made his skin crawl.

The brake lights of Mendel’s vehicle illuminated the dark road before him, and it didn’t take long before he was pulling into Marvin’s driveway carefully. Peering into the windows of the house from inside his car, it appeared to Mendel that the lights were off. This was worrying in the sense that if Mendel didn’t want to have to break and enter, Marvin would need to be awake. Nevertheless, the psychiatrist stepped out of his car and gingerly approached the tall front door, giving it an experimental knock. 

It became evident to him that nobody was going to answer him by opening said door, so the tired man sighed and withdrew from his pocket a spare key to the spacious home. The key was given to him by Marvin himself, purely for the sake of Jason being able to visit. Unfortunately, this particular case didn’t pertain to that, but it was still being put to use for an urgent cause. 

With careful precision, Mendel pushed the key into the handle and turned it, hearing a soft click. Success. He then warily entered the home, only to see something horribly uncharacteristic of Marvin. The man was lying flat on the couch, doused in his own sweat; an arm was draped over his sickly, thin face, and his garments were horribly wrinkled without a morsel of care being put into how horrible it looked on the frail man. In its entirety, the sight was terrifying to the likes of Mendel, who never thought this version of Marvin would ever see the light of day. 

“Oh, my god,” Mendel gasped into his hand, which he had clasped over his face upon first encountering Marvin in this state. With caution, he approached the man and rested a hand on his shoulder. It was shockingly hot, which prompted Mendel to wake the man immediately by shaking his body carefully. To his relief, Marvin awoke with a faint groan. 

“Mendel?” he croaked, attempting to sit up. He was successful in doing so, but telling from his pained facial expression, the sudden movement was horribly unpleasant. His entire appearance whilst awake was even more harrowing to the eye; his glazed-over eyes, his papery, ghostly complexion, the lifeless gaze he held while looking at Mendel inquisitively. His face had a sheen of perspiration, which was consistent with the rest of his body, and as a whole, Marvin looked utterly miserable. “What brings you here?”

“As much as it pains me to admit this, since I know you deem yourself independent, I called Dr. Charlotte on your behalf,” Mendel explained with a defeated sigh, peering down at the other man. “There were symptoms I couldn’t overlook, Marvin, and Charlotte requested that I bring you to the emergency clinic immediately. I apologize for waking you at such an hour.”

“You….” Marvin mulled over the words Mendel spoke, his glassy eyes narrowing as his face contorted with some sort of sick anger. “My health is not of your concern, Mendel. You’re only here to relieve me of my grief, not to directly involve yourself with whether I’m sick or healthy.”

Marvin’s voice wavered as he spoke. The man was clearly trying to contain his bitter rage. 

“Yes, Marvin, but you see…” Mendel trailed off, trying to think of words that’d defend his case. “We’re all very concerned about you. Sick or not, it’d still be healthy to check in with Dr. Charlotte, just to make sure your body is functioning properly. There have been many stress-related illnesses, and it’d be a shame if you were to fall ill simply for that reason.”

Marvin placed a hand on the arm of the couch and used it to keep himself balanced as he slowly stood. His posture was a sore sight to see, primarily due to his hunch and the sweat now visible through the back of his loose-fitting shirt. “Mendel, I assure you that I’m fine,” he said lowly, his voice seemingly even weaker now that he’d spent most of his energy standing. Still, he had an entire diatribe to get through, so he made his best attempt to keep his words coherent. “Even if I were to die in this spot, you are not to get involved. My health affairs do not concern you now, nor will they ever.”

“Marvin, please do understand—“

“Nor will they ever!” Marvin drawled in more of a shout, his voice a couple of decibels louder than before. That was the final straw, and evidently so by the way the man collapsed onto his knees in a violent coughing fit. Mendel was quick to respond by rushing forward and taking the poor man’s arm, draping it over his own shoulder and pulling Marvin up to his feet. 

Marvin naturally tried to evade Mendel’s presence, but in doing so he only coughed louder and more rapidly, falling limp while being dragged along by his psychiatrist.

The only place Mendel was headed was the car. As he pulled Marvin along, ultimately supporting most of his weight, he was cautious to be gentle with the weakening man. The only thing coming out of Marvin’s mouth at this point were quiet coughs, which replaced his words of protest entirely. By the time Marvin was situated in the passenger’s seat and Mendel was driving off to the clinic, the frail man was utterly silent and drifting in and out of consciousness. 

“Don’t worry, Marvin, everything will be alright.”

Everything won’t be alright.


End file.
